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A glacier of Magic

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Vince ducked behind a alleyway, diving in between some trash cans to hide from guards who had been chasing him. The Elf was afraid, and definitely guilty. The time of day was late afternoon, and he was in a random town close to Blairville. He wore his usual getup, but was also carrying a bag filled with what appeared to be vials. Yes, you see, this story can only be made clear with context. Context that I shall begin to give you now:

***(2 days earlier)***

High above the world among the clouds, flying alongside the birds and wind; Vince flew his airship determinedly, having been searching for work and finding no such luck. This was Vincent Redhill, an elf engineer who was trying to score some cash to pay for ship repairs. His airship, the dusty ol bird, needed a new pair of wood board replacements, and he could only hold it together with nails and tape for so long. If all else failed, he always has his trusty parachute.

But today he had an objective: he'd heard about a calamity that befell the lands of Terrenus. A calamity that caused the magic of the whole land to be sucked up into an ice desert and leave the population stunted and frustrated. This meant 2 things: People would be short on magic all over the lands, and that there would be a demand for it. But how would he make a profit out of this? Easy, Vince himself hated magic, but he was a being that produced it. And elf.

So, long story short, he'd fill vials with his magic reserves, and sell them for a decent price. Decent being enough to fully repair his airship after all is sold and done. Maybe some food and drink too. Vince smiled, he knew this would be a simple mission. In and out, no problem. What's the worst that could go wrong?

***(Present)***

He'd sold some vials, was approached by the authorities aggressively for selling magic, and ran for it under the impression that counterfeit magic was apparently illegal. Now he hid, hoping nobody would find him in the back alley of a bar...

(Feel free to join in if you want, Its all for fun, and maybe cannon post too if I passed the Supernal exam?)

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Xahlafael sat upon a bar stool, drinking to pass the time. It wasn't unusual for him, and his tolerance to liquor has grown tremendously over the years because of it. He was already on his fourth round of a particularly fiery whiskey, yet he felt almost unfazed. Almost. A slight buzz settled in his head as he drank what was left of his glass. The traveler decided he didn't want to have a splitting headache in the morning and declined the offer for a refill. Besides, he didn't want to be drunkenly walking around at night in an unfamiliar city.

As Xahlafael spun the glass around on the table and stood up, a few others gave the swordsman a wary glance. Although he was a Terrenus native, he was new to this city. He'd only been there for less than a week for what he called a "business trip." Business to him could either be mapping an area of land or being sent on a murder mission. Even though he gave up his occupation of a mercenary some years ago, he didn't mind retreating to his old ways if he was paid enough to do it. A job was a job. The people of this city seemed to be aware of that and watched the man carefully as he walked toward the exit.

The tall man turned to walk down the street, but a peculiar feeling began settling in his chest. It felt as though there was a presence of someone nearby. Not necessarily a dangerous presence, but a presence nonetheless. As Xahlafael crept down the alley next to the bar, a reached around to grip the silver hilt of his sword. He didn't feel as though he was being threatened, but he wasn't about to get ambushed in a dark alley either. The sound of shaky breathing was evident as Xahlafael got closer to a cluster of trash cans. He unsheathed the black-bladed sword and used it to tap the cans as he peered over them. There was an elf curled up among the trash, clutching a bag close to his chest. He appeared nervous and out of breath, as if he had been running from something and is now hiding from whatever that something is. Xahlafael spoke to the elven man in a rough voice, sword resting threateningly on one of the cans.

"Whatever's in that bag must be mighty important for you to be hiding in a place like this. Why don't you come out and we can see about getting you a proper hiding spot." 

 

((OOC: Hope you don't mind me hopping on!))

Edited by Scout22

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Quin rested on the open windowsill near the 2nt floor of a building. Her back rested against the wall as she sat and let her foot hang off one edge, with her other, tucked to her chest. She was wearing a dark brown cloak over her head with a white shirt underneath. Quin also had a pair of well-used boots and her legs were covered by long blue jeans. Now, why is a lovely lady like Quin here you may be asking? Well, Quin had to get a special delivery for one of her "Friends". Oh, how she hated him, always making her do the dirty work. Hell, she might give up on the coin as a reward for getting the delivery.

 After about an hour of waiting someone started to make a ruckus. Unable to see very far She took in what she could. 'Longears, the clanging of something glass, Oh! there fast that it1.'  she thought to her self. but just before she went to great them another person joined us. Hearing what the man said Quin also made their self known. With a smoky yet angelic voice, she said "I agree they seem rather usefull~" before hopping down about 3 feet away from the elf "I was going to pick up 'Some spices' for a friend but it seems we have company, now do we?" she stopped to look in Xahlafael's direction.

(OOC: Hope this is okay)

 

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